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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24492064">Enamoured</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quillbreaker/pseuds/Quillbreaker'>Quillbreaker</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 04:47:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>17,708</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24492064</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quillbreaker/pseuds/Quillbreaker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Voldemort turned, pushing his face into Harry's hand. "This little game that we play..." He paused when his throat burned. "Is it, V? Is it a game?" Harry whispered. Sadistic. Eyes so green and so infinitely deep, deeper than any ocean. He tightened the rope around Voldemort's neck. "Watch me " He pulled on the rope. Let's play then, V. And watch me break you."</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Harry Potter/Voldemort</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>131</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarOfFeanor/gifts">StarOfFeanor</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Topa/gifts">Topa</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/It_is_I/gifts">It_is_I</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/PT8/gifts">PT8</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artisan03/gifts">Artisan03</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It wasn't working. None of it. Lord Voldemort huffed out a frustrated breath and nodded at Bellatrix when she paused what she was doing to send him an inquiring frown. Her lips curved and she bent, resuming her eager lapping at the wet, swollen pussy spread out before her.</p><p>Behind Bellatrix, Rodolphus grunted his pleasure, thrusting into Bella as she moaned and ate the woman…Cho? He always had a hard time remembering, but her name didn't matter. She'd been brought in just for tonight's fun, but her real job was much more important. She was Asian, pale skin, silky black hair, body toned. Bellatrix, on the other hand, was dark haired, beautiful and voluptuous.</p><p>Voldemort picked up his glass of whiskey from the floor and downed it with a grimace. Damn thing wasn't even burning his throat. Another thing that wasn't working for him. He palmed his unresponsive cock and bared his teeth in a pissed-off grimace. Usually he got off on this. Who wouldn't? But something was happening with his pleasure. It was gone. He couldn't feel it. No pain. No pleasure.</p><p>Bellatrix grabbed a fistful of the Asian's hair and held her still as she rammed her pussy into her mouth, head thrown back, chest heaving. Voldemort watched them as Rodolphus watched him. The weed was low, alcohol wasn't working, and the scene in front of him that should have him fired up and ready to go wasn't doing its job.</p><p>He got to his feet and hurriedly buttoned his shirt. Rodolphus called out to him,</p><p>"Master?"</p><p>Voldemort ignored him. He ignored the aroused cries of the two women and walked out the apartment. His bodyguards, Avery and Macnair, stood out in the hallway on either side of the door, waiting with bored expressions. He knew how they felt,</p><p>"Time to go."</p><p>He didn't wait for a response. It wasn't needed. Avery caught up with him on the stairs,</p><p>"Where are we headed, Master?"</p><p>Voldemort took the stairs these days, didn't matter how far up he was going, or how far down either. He didn't ride elevators. The last time he did, he'd gotten a bullet in his back. No elevators.</p><p>"The Shrieking Shack."</p><p>Avery stopped walking, mouth hanging open as he stared at his master,</p><p>"The Shrieking Shack?"</p><p>Voldemort continued his way down the stairs and spat out venomously,</p><p>"Did I stutter?"</p><p>Avery broke eye contact, his gaze quickly falling to his toes,</p><p>"No, my Lord."</p><p>Lord, he liked the sound of that. He was their master. But not too many people liked that idea. There was an uneasy tightness to his skin that wouldn't relent until he got what he needed. This wasn't the first time he'd felt like this, but it'd been a while, and this time…this time felt different. Right now, he was going to a place Lucius had recommended. It would be safe; Lucius had promised. Safe for Voldemort's body. For his identity. He didn't know for sure, but he'd find out. He could always burn the place to the ground if he didn't find it to be what he wanted. The way he was feeling, he wanted to watch something burn.</p><p>He had Avery and Macnair drop him off around the corner then watched them drive off before he walked over to the building. They didn't like leaving him alone, not since the attempt on his life, but some things weren't meant for his employees to witness. His men would never see him on his knees. That part of himself he kept carefully hidden. They didn't care so much that he also fancied men, but his kinks would be seen as a weakness. In this stage of the game, he couldn't afford any of that.</p><p>He rang the doorbell and the large red door was opened by a tall, skinny man with salt and pepper hair and gruff expression,</p><p>"Yes?"</p><p>Voldemort tried peering over the man's shoulder, but couldn't make out a damn thing,</p><p>"Lucius recommended this place. Lucius Malfoy"</p><p>He held the man's gaze, presenting the image of a man in control of himself and his needs,</p><p>"Of course, Sir. Right this way, please."</p><p>The man stepped back and motioned for Voldemort to enter. Voldemort didn't even hesitate. He walked straight in.</p><p>He spent a few minutes with a man, Ron, he'd introduced himself as, talking about the rules, Voldemort's likes, and getting a brief tour of the surprisingly large house. The main floor wasn't crowded, but after Ron allowed him the chance to walk about on his own, Voldemort found the basement level filled with people.</p><p>He heard the feminine moans and the arousing sound of leather connecting with flesh before he spotted them. In the middle of the room. The woman was secured to a cross, getting whipped. She was stunning in her submission, blissful pain on her face. Voldemort would be all over her, getting high on her pained cries…. If he hadn't seen <em>him</em>. The man doing the whipping.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>His long graceful legs were cladded in leather, along with his torso. He was Lean and angular, but looked feminine from afar. The sharp movements with which he brought the whip down was hypnotizing Voldemort, so much that he forgot to stick to the outskirts of the crowd. He had to get in closer. Had to see more.</p><p>His feet moved and he pushed his way through the crowd until he was right there, at the forefront, smelling leather, sex and pain. The leather played off his body in interesting ways. He tried to ignore the other details—taut piece of ass, broad shoulders, the V-shape of the back at odds with the first impression of femininity. His cock throbbed, awakened and aroused. Not for the woman, but for the man who delivered those precise blows with grave silence. Voldemort surged to the right of the crowd in order to see him, his face.</p><p>The face stole his breath away. It was a beautifully constructed one. In that pale face lurked the most beautiful, emerald eyes Voldemort had ever seen, and lips like they'd been cut with knife blades, perfect, sharp, and deadly. He had dark messy curls that didn't look messy at all. The man wore a cold, motionless, focused expression. Voldemort didn't see passion in what he was doing. He didn't see displeasure. He just saw a man going through the motions. It hit him, like a punch to the throat. The need to see pleasure in those emerald eyes. The urge to break that fierce concentration, for emotion to crack that smooth veneer. Not for anyone else, but for him. With him.</p><p>The man, the Dom, was with someone else, but that didn't matter. Neither did it factor in that he was topping a woman. Voldemort had him in his sights. This was who would make him feel again. Who would give him release. He watched them, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans as the Dom took his sub to the clouds, as she sighed and folded like a cheap suit in his arms.</p><p>Everyone around Voldemort sighed and applauded. The Dom stiffened then looked up and around as if he'd only now realized he had an audience. He cradled the woman to his chest, whispered in her ear as he kissed her temple and smoothed a hand over her head. He did all that, but his face never lost its detachment.</p><p>That wouldn't do for Voldemort. He'd demand more. No way would he accept being topped by someone who wouldn't or couldn't show their pleasure at his submission. His gift. Because submission was a gift to be treasured. Appreciated.</p><p>Voldemort melted into the crowd, watching from the shadows as the woman finally curled up on a bed in the corner of the room. She looked as if she'd fallen asleep. The Dom disappeared into another room without a backward glance. Voldemort waited, but he didn't see him return so he went back upstairs to the main area. A sub was being spanked by a Dom. Someone else was being flogged. He went from room to room, barely registering the sights and sounds and smells. His full attention remained on that Dom in the basement, he needed to know his identity.</p><p>In the bar area, where curiously no alcohol was being served, he got himself a glass of water and filled out a detailed questionnaire about himself, his kinks and everything else. Damn, he half expected them to ask about his credit score. He eavesdropped on hushed conversations, but none was about the man. His toy. They'd be playing soon enough. He always got his man. Always. He hadn't been looking, but he'd found himself a brand-new toy. His body tingled with that thought.</p><p>The Dom would hurt him. Voldemort had seen the tightly coiled power in those lean muscles, the way the man stood, the way he landed his blows. He could hurt him perfectly well. Exactly what he wanted.</p><p>He exited the bar area just in time to see his quarry—now dressed in a pair of black dress pants and a crisp white shirt —duck into a room on the top floor. Voldemort remained where he was. The biting need that rode him for days remained, but he tamped it down. Now that he had someone in his sights he'd get what he wanted soon enough. He'd selected a new toy so now, no one else would do. He ignored the crowd, pulling his dark cap low on his forehead.</p><p>The Dom didn't stay in the room upstairs long. He came out a short time later and quickly descended the stairs like a man on a mission. Voldemort followed him into a bathroom and stood by the door as his new toy rolled up his shirt sleeves and washed his hands in a nearby sink. When he turned away to wipe his hands via the paper towel machine mounted to the wall, he stepped out from behind his hiding place.</p><p>His new toy didn't seem surprised to see him. He gazed at Voldemort through the mirror. Cool. Unruffled. In control. It made his blood race. Made his palms sweat,</p><p>"What's your name?"</p><p>The man didn't answer. He remained facing the mirror, head cocked at an angle, watching Voldemort watch him. Their appearances couldn't be any different. The Dom with his pale, milky skin, impeccably dressed, and Voldemort with his wrinkled shirt missing buttons, the ragged holes in his faded jeans, black motorcycle boots and the taste of weed and alcohol on his tongue. When he spoke he sounded rough, words halting with need,</p><p>"I watched you. Downstairs. I want it."</p><p>"No."</p><p>Just one word, but it fired Voldemort like nothing ever had. He stepped up close, pressing his front to the Dom's back. Voldemort was hard, achingly hard,</p><p>"I want you. Give me what you gave her."</p><p>It was a demand, but Voldemort heard hollow need all over his words. The man spun around, lightning fast, and grabbed Voldemort by the throat. Bloody hell. His balls tightened, threatening to explode. By that. Just that. Voldemort realized when he peered up at him through his eyelids that the man's expression hadn't changed. He kept his hands fisted at his sides. Waiting. Body pulsing. He whispered,</p><p>"Give it to me."</p><p>He slammed Voldemort into a stall door. He groaned,</p><p>"Touch me again and I'll break your neck."</p><p>The man released him and was gone before Voldemort could gulp in air. His heart pounded as he clutched the edge of the sink, breathing fast. He met his own wild gaze in the mirror, shivering at the hungry grin on his face. A chase. He could do that.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He followed his toy at a distance out the building, via a side door, and into a small parking lot next door. A woman stood near a town car with tinted windows, waiting. Voldemort narrowed his gaze as his prey went to her, grabbing and kissing her. His gut clenched and Voldemort reached down, pulling a small knife from his left boot. He crept closer, head down. At least the place was practically empty and the parking lot dimly lit. That allowed him to get close enough to see that the woman was the same one his toy whipped earlier. He bit his tongue as he watched. The man kissed her hard, but didn't make a sound. She made enough for them both, loud whimpers. Voldemort squeezed the knife in his palm. Would she make the same sounds if he gutted her with the knife?</p><p>He catalogued every sound she made to memory, hating her for having what he wanted. That roughness. The pain from earlier. His kisses, because he kissed her, his new toy. He kissed her hungrily, briefly silencing her cries. He wondered at his toy, the way he smelled. His skin. The more he wondered the more he ached to know, the more he had to, and the more he hated the bitch who clutched his toy's back as she came with a low keening sound.</p><p>Voldemort's new toy pulled away from the woman, and got into the dark sedan parked next to the town car. Soon as he pulled off, Voldemort jumped from his hiding place. He caught her as she was about to get into the driver's side of the car and grabbed a fistful of her hair. She gasped and he jerked her head back, knife at her throat pushing into her skin.</p><p>Her eyes were blue and wide, full of fear and lingering arousal. He dipped his head, pressing his nose to her shoulder as she whimpered. He took a breath then lifted his head to stare down at her.</p><p>"The man who was just here, what's his name?"</p><p>She hiccupped, bottom lip trembling. Voldemort smiled and pressed the knife deeper into her skin. A bead of blood welled up then slid down into her cleavage. He trailed it hungrily with his eyes.</p><p>"His name. Tell me."</p><p>Her pebbled nipple poked against his arm. Musky arousal swamped him. Damn. Voldemort gritted his teeth. She was like him, getting high on danger. Turned on by her own fear.</p><p>"Tell me and I'll give you want you want."</p><p>He could give it to her, but what he wanted, only his toy would suffice. The woman's pupils dilated and she bit her bottom lip, pressing closer against him. The knife at her throat poked deeper into her skin. She whispered, voice husky, hopeful,</p><p>"Mr. Potter. That's all I know."</p><p>Damn it,</p><p>"Is he your Dom? You two play together often?"</p><p>She moved her head side to side to say no,</p><p>"We come here once a month. Every other time we meet at my place."</p><p>That was weird, but he would puzzle it out later. Lowering the knife, he bent his head and licked her neck, near the area he'd seen his toy bite her. He inhaled again, trying to find the smell of his toy under the woman's own arousal. Her head was thrown back, lashes brushing her flushed cheeks as she panted. Voldemort wanted to snap her neck, but he shook her instead, pressing his thumb into the indent at her throat. Her lashes flew open. He whispered as he stroked the spot where his knife had penetrated her skin,</p><p>"You should tell him this. Tell him I nearly killed you."</p><p>He stepped away from her. She stared at him with wide eyes and parted lips. Her voice shook.</p><p>"I…. My name…"</p><p>He clamped a hand over her mouth and snarled in her ear,</p><p>"I don't give a damn about your name. This isn't about you. Go."</p><p>He waved at her car,</p><p>"Don't forget to tell him what I did."</p><p>She stumbled into the car and drove away after two attempts to start it. Voldemort made sure to get a good look at her license plate, committing it to memory. His new toy was playing hard to get. Obviously, he'd never met anyone like Voldemort. They'd see each other again. Yes. The hunt was on.</p><hr/><p>Harry let the meditative music flow through him as he got into position—hands and knees—on his yoga mat. Outside on his balcony, the sun hadn't yet risen and a cool breeze swept over his skin in a welcomed touch. He breathed deeply then dipped his head, resting his forehead on the mat between his spread hands. After rolling his head forward, he extended first his left then right hand down his body, bending them so his elbows pressed into his abdomen, right at his navel.</p><p>He used his elbows to hold his body weight as he stretched his legs out and lifted his head, finding his balance, centering himself on his arms as he levered himself off the ground. He rocked back and forth a little, the force of supporting his entire body mass making his hands tremble. Focusing was difficult, but he gritted his teeth and did his damndest. The muscles in his abdomen burned. It was a good sensation, keeping him grounded and centered. He wobbled, but held the position until he absolutely couldn't anymore.</p><p>Finally, he lowered himself back onto the mat, sitting with his legs folded under him, palms up in his lap. Silence was needed. To get his mind right. He hadn't been right since last night. Everything had gone sideways in an instant. He'd lost his cool. His calm. Ginny. He needed to call her, explain himself. He'd just attacked the woman in the parking lot of the club. Lucky for him, he and Ginny knew each other. They weren't strangers. They'd been playing for years. He had been the one to set the 'no interaction other than BDSM' rule and that included kissing, groping and biting. He had done all that to her in that parking lot last night.</p><p>Brown eyes kept interrupting his sleep last night. The reason he'd gotten up so damn early, trying to meditate. The music, breathing, and yoga poses weren't working. Damn that man. How in the hell had he even gained entry to the club? Why was he so adamant that he treat him as he'd treated Ginny? If he was the paranoid sort, he would've thought Lord Voldemort knew his true identity. That he knew Harry was the man behind The Order of the Phoenix. But he quickly discarded that thought. No one knew except Sirius and he trusted his godfather more than anything else.</p><p>Voldemort had looked hungry. On edge. Out of control. Demanding, too. His lips twisted. Voldemort looked young, a kind of rebel. But he knew that Voldemort wasn't that young. And to be put in control of the drug trade in the city, there had to be more to Voldemort than what he'd seen. He was an impulsive bastard and the way he saw things, he'd be doing the guy a favour by taking control of the city from him. Weirdly, too, Voldemort had smelt like caramel. As if he'd been sucking on sweets just before accosting him.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Mr. Potter?"</p><p>He opened his eyes and gazed at his housekeeper slash cook slash whatever the hell else Debra was. She stood in the doorway leading to the balcony, holding out his cell phone.</p><p>"Mr. Black is calling."</p><p>He crooked a finger and she handed off the phone before hurrying away,</p><p>"Sirius."</p><p>He held the phone to his ear with his shoulder as he got to his feet. Sirius asked,</p><p>""Are you sitting down? You better be sitting."</p><p>Harry's interest piqued,</p><p>"What's up?"</p><p>Sirius spoke excitedly,</p><p>"He called a meeting, Lord Voldemort. Got the message like two minutes ago. He wants to meet on neutral ground."</p><p>Harry paused in the process of rolling up his mat,</p><p>"And where is this neutral ground?"</p><p>"Coffee shop. One hour."</p><p>Harry frowned. Trying to anticipate Voldemort's next move was hard. A man as out of control as he'd been last night, he was unpredictable and he didn't trust unpredictable. He said slowly.</p><p>"Patch me in when you get there. Let's see what he has to say then we'll take it from there."</p><p>"Alright. Take care of yourself, Harry."</p><p>"Be careful."</p><p>Sirius ended the call and Harry stayed where he was, staring down at the street,</p><p>
  <em>Give me what you gave her.</em>
</p><p>The words kept swimming around in his head. The utter need in them still echoing. He knew a lot about his enemies, he never went to war blindfolded, but this, he hadn't known this about Lord Voldemort. Was it a weakness to exploit or a threat to be wary of?</p><p>He took a shower, got dressed then sat down at his dining table. It was large, a statement piece, the interior decorators would say. For Harry, it was just a table with eight chairs, eight place settings. He had only ever been the one to sit there, to dine there. Sometimes when his knife or fork scraped against his plate while he ate, the sound would echo and he'd glance up, startled, only to be greeted by the silence. He liked silence.</p><p>He powered up the laptop and set everything up. Sirius would wear a small mike and camera somewhere on his person that would transmit everything taking place to Harry in real time. He got to be there while not being there, to watch and plot, without his enemies ever being the wiser. Everything also got automatically downloaded in an encrypted file.</p><p>The feed crackled first then blinked on. Harry leaned forward, elbows on the table as he observed what Sirius saw. His Godfather sat in an empty coffee shop, but the foot traffic outside was loud and abundant. He didn't see anybody else in the shot, so he guessed Sirius's backup were well-hidden. Even though they'd been in this trade for a long time, Harry still worried that he'd done the right thing by allowing Sirius to be out there in the path of danger. Sirius shot down his concerns every time Harry brought it up. They were alike, but opposite in many ways. Sirius liked to be out there, out front, in the thick of things while Harry preferred the sidelines and the background.</p><p>Black polished dress shoes came into view first, since Sirius was facing the door. Harry could see the hem of black tailored dress pants. Sirius stood and Voldemort came into full view, wearing a black tailored dress shirt His face was composed, devoid of emotion, his eyes cautious, watchful. Immediately Harry could tell that he was the same man from last night but he was different. Lord Voldemort looked very different. Harry watched him take a seat and Sirius sat down as well,</p><p>"You called this meeting, care to share what's on your mind?"</p><p>Voldemort sat back, body language relaxed as he gazed at Sirius,</p><p>"Heard you were after my city."</p><p>Sirius spoke and Harry couldn't help but grin,</p><p>""You heard wrong. I'm after <em>you</em> and <em>your city</em>."</p><p>Voldemort grinned too.</p><p>"I like that, a man who tells the truth."</p><p>He leaned forward suddenly. Harry tensed. Sirius didn't.</p><p>"Allow me to impart some truths of my own. You won't get my city, and I've got a bullet in my back that says you won't get me either."</p><p>Harry frowned. A bullet in his back. He hadn't sent anyone after Voldemort yet. Sirius spoke,</p><p>"You're not as bulletproof as you'd like to imagine. You know what I want."</p><p><em>Give me what you gave to her</em>. Damn, not now. Harry wiped a hand over his face. Voldemort smiled, tongue flicking out and smoothing over his lips,</p><p>"I like you. I mean you're suicidal, but I like you. Find someone else to play with, I have nothing you want."</p><p>Sirius laughed and spoke,</p><p>"Or else?"</p><p>Voldemort flashed his teeth when he grinned. It was predatory, it was threatening, it was cold, and it made Harry freeze and stare in fascination.</p><p>"I like blood. I have got no problem with getting into a bloodbath with you. I just wanted to make sure that's how you really want to play it."</p><p>He got to his feet.</p><p>"You know where I'll be at. Come get me."</p><p>He walked away and Harry watched him go as Sirius chuckled and picked up his phone. Harry's phone ran two second later,</p><p>"Yeah."</p><p>Sirius asked,</p><p>"You saw all that?"</p><p>Harry paused the video,</p><p>"I did. Did you send someone after him?"</p><p>Sirius snorted,</p><p>"I didn't, but it doesn't surprise me that we're not the only ones out to put him out of business. He's cocky and confidant. I do have someone who's up for the job. Just waiting for your say so to contact him."</p><p>
  <em>Give me what you gave her.</em>
</p><p>"Harry?"</p><p>He shook his head to clear it,</p><p>"Yes, it's a go. Let me know when it's done."</p><p>For some reason, the words were heavy on his tongue as he ordered the death of Lord Voldemort. Sirius assured him,</p><p>"Will do. Catch you later, Harry."</p><p>Harry hung up the phone and sat, staring at the computer screen. He played the video back on mute then paused on Voldemort's face. He was good looking in a dangerous kind of way. Gaze steady and piercing, taking in his surroundings with one glance. He knew what he was doing. This guy, he knew what he was doing. Harry's gut told him it wouldn't be easy, taking Lord Voldemort down. It would be a challenge. A messy, bloody challenge.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. His parents had died when he had been one and he had been dumped on his relative's doorsteps, who would never have accepted him if they hadn't been offered everything his parents had left. He'd been brought into a household where he was the youngest, the weirdest and unwanted by everyone. They didn't bother speaking to him. Indifference was the best he got. In search of somewhere to fit in, to matter, Harry had gotten caught up with the group of guys at the corner. They became family, they fought for him, defended and protected him.</p><p>He knew his relatives didn't give a damn about him. They certainly weren't going to pay for his education so he made enough money selling drugs to the crack heads on the dark streets of Surrey to put himself through College and University during the day while dealing at night. Unlike the others who were in for the moment, he saved his money, made connections and when he saw an opportunity to expand he took it. The trade was how he'd met Sirius. Sirius had been a friend of his parents. And ever since Sirius had found out who he was he had started looking after him. It took years and a lot of finagling, railroading and blood shedding, but these days, Every bag of weed sold on the quiet streets of Birmingham and Oxfords belonged to The Order of the Phoenix.</p><p>This was a business, his business, and he was looking to expand. London had been his dream for years. Even though Harry had eyed it now and again, he hadn't thought to move on it until Marvolo had died. Harry figured the territory would be up for grabs since Morfin had been doing a bid in States. No one clued him in to the existence of Voldemort until he had seen him come up in the news and claim the business as his own. Radicalizing it and sticking a label of his own. The Death Eaters. That's what he had named his gang.</p><p>Now Voldemort was in Harry's face, in his brain, and the why had very little to do with their street war. Harry swiped a hand over his face and shook his head. Enough. Time to purge Voldemort from his mind. He snatched up his phone and dialled Ginny. She answered on the fourth ring,</p><p>"Mr. Potter."</p><p>"Ginny. I'd like to see you later this evening, is that feasible?"</p><p>She paused and he imagined her biting her lip as she often did when they spoke,</p><p>"Y-Yes, sir."</p><p>She sounded off, but he couldn't blame her. He'd changed their agreement by losing control. Time for him to beg her forgiveness then move on. He never allowed the people he played with to see him lose control. If it happened, he ended things and moved on. As he was about to do with Ginny.</p><hr/><p>Evening came too late that day. Harry found himself restless and nervous. He breathed out a sigh of relief when he found himself outside Ginny's door</p><p>"Hello, Ginny. Can I come in?"</p><p>Harry frowned when she peeked at him from behind her door. Her lips were red and swollen, eyes wide, cheeks flushed. She blinked rapidly,</p><p>"Y-Yes. Of course."</p><p>She stepped back, and Harry walked past her into the dimly lit house. His frown deepened as he caught a whiff of Ginny's scent. Aroused woman and fear,</p><p>"Are you…."</p><p>"Is she what?"</p><p>Someone murmured from behind him. Harry froze. Something touched his nape, a gun, if he had to guess. It took his brain a few seconds to catch up, to recognize the voice. Voldemort.</p><p>"What the hell is this?"</p><p>Ginny shook her head mutely. Voldemort's words were intimately whispered at Harry's right ear.</p><p>"I bet you thought you'd seen the last of me."</p><p>He fisted his hands as he tried to figure out what the hell was happening,</p><p>"Ginny, are you okay?"</p><p>She was useless, half leaning against the wall, chest heaving, nipples clearly visible through her flimsy dress. Her pupils were dilated as she licked her lips, looking from Harry to the guy behind him with the gun.</p><p>"Did you do something to her?"</p><p>Voldemort scoffed,</p><p>"Did I? She's not important, not to me, and I'm thinking not to you."</p><p>Harry gritted his teeth and ground out,</p><p>"Then why are you here?"</p><p>The gun shifted a bit and Harry figured Voldemort had shrugged.</p><p>"You're here. Where else would I be? Figured I'd be present to watch you say goodbye."</p><p>Ginny's panting breaths echoed in the small living room. Harry narrowed his eyes as she cupped her breasts, teasing the hardened nipples with one hand. Voldemort whispered in his ear,</p><p>"She gets off on it. The fear and the danger."</p><p>Damn. Harry shook his head,</p><p>"Yes. Ginny here tells me that before last night, you'd never done that, never kissed her like that, never really touched her like that."</p><p>He got closer, lips brushing Harry's nape as he asked,</p><p>"What changed last night, Mr. Potter? What made you lose control?"</p><p>Harry remained silent. There was nothing to say, not when he didn't know himself. It wasn't as if Voldemort deserved an explanation. He asked sharply,</p><p>"Are you on drugs?"</p><p>Voldemort spoke slowly,</p><p>"I am high, but you're to blame for that."</p><p>The gun pressed harder against Harry's skin. Harry gritted his teeth. He wanted to turn around and snatch the gun away from that crazy idiot, knock him on his ass, but he couldn't take the chance. Not with Ginny right there. It took Harry all his self-control to restrain the urge to beat the hell out of Voldemort. Harry kept his mouth shut. Voldemort didn't deserve an explanation. That bastard knew nothing about control and denying one's self anything. Voldemort was the epitome of acting without thinking things through,</p><p>""What do you want?"</p><p>Harry was relieved to note that his frustrated anger didn't filter through in his voice. Voldemort moved from Harry's back to his front, the gun disappearing then rapidly appearing at his throat,</p><p>"I already told you what I wanted last night."</p><p>His breath teased the corner of Harry's mouth when he whispered just loud enough for Harry to hear,</p><p>"I never repeat myself."</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>This was beyond reckless, stalking someone, demanding he accept his submission, but Voldemort didn't care about any of that. He'd shown up at Ginny's door after bribing the girl at the DMV for her address. Slut that she was, Ginny got wet simply at the sight of his gun, but unlike the last time, Voldemort wasn't interested in her. He needed the man who now stood in front of him.</p><p>Potter was focused on her, no doubt, but his face was completely blank. He'd shown no signs of anger or frustration from the minute he'd stepped into the house to now. Even as he'd apologized for his behaviour the night before, and told Ginny this would be their last time together—insisting Voldemort had nothing to do with it—and that he'd have the club refer her to someone else, his tone remained unaffected. What would it take to get the impenetrable mask to slip? To get the walls to crumble?</p><p>He walked right out, past Voldemort, and toward the door. Voldemort grinned.</p><p>"I know you know better than that. I'm not done with you, Mr. Potter. Not by a long shot."</p><p>Potter spun to face him,</p><p>"I'm leaving."</p><p>Voldemort walked up to him, getting in his face. The man refused to take the bait,</p><p>"Yeah? You haven't asked my name. Why don't you tell me yours and I'll reciprocate?"</p><p>Cold eyes regarded him steadily,</p><p>"Harry Potter."</p><p>Voldemort bit down on his bottom lip, he murmured,</p><p>"Harry, what do your friends call you?"</p><p>"Are we friends?"</p><p>Voldemort winked,</p><p>"We're a lot of things. Getting to be more by the minute."</p><p>For a second there he thought Harry was going to roll his eyes, but he just said,</p><p>"Harry. My friends call me Harry."</p><p>Voldemort grabbed his arm and pulled him close, their chests touching.</p><p>"Harry, it's a pleasure. Really. I'm Lord Voldemort"</p><p>He dropped his gaze from Harry's expressionless face to his lips. They needed biting in the worst way. Voldemort whispered,</p><p>"I want your emotions. That control you keep a tight rein on, the power you work so hard to conceal. I want you to unleash it on me. All of it. And I want to watch your face when you do, when you let it all go. For me."</p><p>Harry stiffened against him, felt as if the other man had stopped breathing. Voldemort tightened his hold, not willing to risk letting Harry out of arm's length for an instant. Harry's voice was scratchy, full of static when he spoke next,</p><p>"You've got the wrong guy, if that's what you want."</p><p>Voldemort tilted his head back, meeting Harry's gaze.</p><p>"Yeah? You think so?"</p><p>"I know so."</p><p>Harry was gone, yanking out of Voldemort's hold effortlessly, opening the door and stepping outside. Voldemort raced after him. He spoke breathlessly</p><p>"You must want to put me in my place. Show me who's in charge."</p><p>Harry hurried to his car parked in Ginny's fenced-in driveway. He didn't look at Voldemort as he pulled out his keys,</p><p>"You've got the gun, you're in charge."</p><p>Voldemort grabbed his shoulder, turning him around and stalling Harry's movement.</p><p>"No. You. I want you. Your belt, my skin. Your hands. On me."</p><p>Harry yanked away,</p><p>"Don't touch me again."</p><p>Yes. Voldemort touched him again, sliding a palm down Harry's front. He didn't make it to his destination, because his toy grabbed his fist and spun him, shoving him into the car. Damn. He wasn't quick enough to smother the needy sound that fell from his lips. Harry's touch killed his usually lightning fast reflexes. He stood with his face pushed into one of the car's windows, both hands twisted behind his back and trapped in Harry's grip. His body liked it, especially his cock. He was already hard. He bowed his head, waiting, panting.</p><p>"Safe word?"</p><p>Voldemort hiccupped.</p><p>"Toffee."</p><p>"I'm going to release your hands. Don't move until I tell you."</p><p>Harry spoke, Unruffled. How the hell was he so fucking calm while his entire being rioted at Harry's presence, his touch, his voice?</p><p>Voldemort licked his lips. His blood buzzed, a loud racket in his ears. Ginny's property was protected from prying eyes by high fences, but he wanted to be seen. If Harry was going to lose control, lower his guards, people needed to witness the who and the why. Harry spoke,</p><p>"Unbutton your shirt. Then take it off and drop it to the ground."</p><p>In his mind, he completed the assigned task in two seconds flat. In reality, somehow, his fingers fumbled at the buttons and what he'd wanted to be a smooth undressing turned out to be an awkward spectacle. Finally, he pulled the shirt from his body and dropped it at his feet.</p><p>And he waited. Was Harry examining the dark mark tattooed there in all its vibrant colourful detail? Was he wondering what it meant? Did he want to know who Voldemort really was? He didn't hear movement, didn't hear sound. Nothing. His heart pounded and he clenched his fists. Damn. Just as he was about to turn around, the blow landed.</p><p>He shouted as his skin lit up on fire. His knees buckled and he grabbed on to the SUV, nails scraping against the smooth surface as he fought to remain standing.</p><p>Another blow fell. Another. Harry's belt on his skin. Voldemort smelt the leather. Intoxicating. The pain clogged his throat and watered his eyes and he heard himself, demanding more. Demanding Harry hit him harder, made him hurt, made him feel. Voldemort's body bowed under the force and Harry still hadn't made a sound. To be fair, if he had, it would likely be drowned out by his groans, by the blood rushing in his ears. His skin pulled tight, the hot pain smoothing out into a drowsy pleasure that made his erection throb along with each strike. Tandem. He closed his eyes, squeezed them tight, and centered himself on the pain in his back, on the strokes as they fell, sure and steady and so damn good.</p><p>What he needed. This was what he needed. What Harry provided, just this. He rose on tiptoe, palms flat on the side of the vehicle. The belt landed on the middle of his back. Voldemort arched with a sharp cry and the dam broke. He jerked and came. The force of his climax dropped him to the ground.</p><p>His skin burned. The scent of leather filled his nose and he curled up on the graveled driveway. The belt fell next to him.</p><p>"We're done."</p><p>Voldemort jerked his head up, blinking as Harry hopped into his vehicle.</p><p>"Harry."</p><p>His toy didn't hear him, or chose not to, because he drove off, leaving Voldemort on the ground.</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"You had a meeting without me?"</p><p>Voldemort glanced up as his uncle burst into his office. Morfin wore a perpetual scowl, had, since the day he came home from jail to find that he had taken over his grandfather's leadership. Voldemort leaned over his desk,</p><p>"Why would I have you at a meeting? And most importantly, how did you find out about it?"</p><p>For every person who'd backed his taking over from his grandfather, there'd been those who vehemently opposed it. Voldemort was now in the unenviable position of going to war for people who didn't even want him fighting for them. Morfin waved away his question and plopped down into the chair opposite him.</p><p>"Don't worry about that, Tom. Just as you have your people, so I have mine."</p><p>Voldemort threw down the pen in his hand and sat back.</p><p>"Don't call me that and that's not going to work. The Phoenix scum want what we have, Uncle. They're going to take it if we don't fight back. Can't we put aside this struggle and unite? He would have wanted that."</p><p>At the mention of his father, Morfin's expression darkened.</p><p>"Don't tell me what he would have wanted. I know what he would have wanted and it's not this."</p><p>He waved a hand at Voldemort sitting at the desk his grandfather had occupied for over forty years.</p><p>"Not this."</p><p>Voldemort sat back in his seat. He had no intention of going back over the same old argument with Morfin again. The fact remained, when his grandfather had died, Morfin had been behind bars and he was the only one his grandfather trusted not to mess everything up. He asked instead.</p><p>"Do you care to know what went on at the meeting?"</p><p>Morfin made a beckoning motion with his hinds.</p><p>"Tell me then."</p><p>"They're after our streets, but we already knew that."</p><p>He broke off and stared into space.</p><p>"I don't think he knew about the attempt on my life in the elevator."</p><p>He'd looked into Sirius Black's eyes, and for a brief moment he had seen confusion when he'd mentioned his narrow escape from death months earlier. Maybe he'd been seeing only what he wanted to, but he doubted it. Morfin leaned forward.</p><p>"Who else is gunning for you, Tom? Just how many enemies have you made since I've been gone?"</p><p>Voldemort grinned.</p><p>"Tons. You know how I do."</p><p>Morfin threw his head back with a deep belly laugh.</p><p>"I know how you do, true."</p><p>He sobered.</p><p>"But do you really think the order weren't behind it?"</p><p>He shrugged.</p><p>"I don't know what to think, really. Doesn't matter anyway, they missed."</p><p>Worry creased Morfin's forehead.</p><p>"Which just means they're going to come at you bigger and better next time. Watch your back. I'm here if you need me, you know that, yes?"</p><p>I'm not worried."</p><p>He wasn't, not really. His brother shook his head.</p><p>"That adrenaline junkie shit you've got going is going be your downfall one of these days. I keep telling you."</p><p>"I know."</p><p>Voldemort picked back up the pen and twirled it. Harry Potter's cool, emerald green eyes swam in front of his eyes. Did Harry have a family?</p><p>He'd done a search on the object of his obsession, but he didn't learn much other than the fact that Harry practiced criminal law out of a private practice. He had zero social media presence. Anything he wanted to know he'd have to learn from the man himself. Obviously, Harry thought the last time they parted would be the end of things. Not by a long shot.</p><p>A loud clap brought him out of his reverie. He blinked at Morfin.</p><p>"What?"</p><p>Morfin lifted an eyebrow and smirked.</p><p>"Day dreaming? Didn't know you were the type.</p><p>"Lots of things you don't know."</p><p>"So, I see."</p><p>He ignored his uncle's searching gaze.</p><p>"Step up the patrols on the streets, especially on weekend nights, I want someone watching over the girls at all times."</p><p>He'd wanted to put an end to the prostitution side of their business, but it was one of the most profitable outfits.</p><p>"You're in charge of making sure our girls are safe."</p><p>Morfin nodded then got to his feet.</p><p>"They will be safe."</p><p>He walked out the room and Voldemort heaved a sigh, scrubbing a hand over his face. He didn't know why he felt Harry Potter was necessary, but he was. His gut said so, and he wasn't ignoring his gut. For now, he'd get what he wanted from Harry, get his pain, his pleasure, and in the process, he'd get to see Harry shed that tightly held mask of control. He wanted to see it, as badly as he wanted Harry to handle him. It would be spectacular, he just knew it, and no one else would see it but him.</p><p>When he'd had enough, he'd walk away from him. It was what he did and he saw nothing being different about this time. He'd long given up on more. More than sex, more than the pain. He wasn't too sure that there was indeed more out there, but it didn't matter. More wasn't for him.</p><p>Running footsteps pounded up the stairs to his office, making him jerk to his feet. His office door flung open, banging against the opposite wall as Avery raced in, chest heaving, gasping for air.</p><p>"What?"</p><p>He went to him.</p><p>"What?"</p><p>Avery waved frantically.</p><p>"The stash house is on fire. Everything is on fire."</p><p>The stash house was where they housed their supplies. Where they sorted out the weed and liquor for distribution, and counted the day's earnings before sending it off to be laundered.</p><p>Voldemort rushed out the building, checking his watch. The stash house would be filled with workers at this time of the day. He got into the SUV Avery had idling at the curb and braced himself. The order had made the first move, hitting him right where they knew it would hurt. He had to give them points for that.</p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Burned it to the ground,"</p><p>Sirius said via the phone in Harry's ear.</p><p>"Next I'm going after the guns."</p><p>Harry nodded.</p><p>"Take away the source of the money. I want them crippled."</p><p>He swung around in his office chair, staring down on the streets of London through the glass wall behind him.</p><p>"He's going to retaliate, though. Stay on point."</p><p>Lord Voldemort loved danger too much to take this blow meekly. Sirius assured him,</p><p>"We're ready,"</p><p>Harry spun his chair around again, now facing his desk,</p><p>Voldemort's brown eyes appeared in his mind again. Not for the first time. Never for the first time. He fisted a hand. The hand he'd used to beat him like he'd asked. Demanded, really. The man didn't know how to beg.</p><p>He could make him. He could teach Voldemort how to beg. Except no, he couldn't. He didn't know what kind of fate had him and Voldemort crossing paths and Voldemort fixating on him, but Harry didn't like it. He didn't trust it. He knew better. He wouldn't go there, which was why he'd forced himself to get into his vehicle and drive off when he felt himself cracking, wanting to touch Voldemort's beautiful tattooed back while he knelt on the ground, looking all needy, making those damned sounds that Harry heard even now.</p><p>The carefully crafted control he'd honed was fraying with every appearance that guy made in his life. Voldemort needed to go, he needed to die, for Harry's sanity. And because he wanted London. His palm hurt and he looked down. His fingernails were digging into his flesh, leaving deep half-moon grooves. Sirius asked,</p><p>"Are you alright, Harry? Something on your mind?"</p><p>Harry shook his head even though Sirius couldn't see.</p><p>"Just thinking. I want that problem dealt with, Sirius."</p><p>"Haven't made contact with my guy yet, but he'll get it done."</p><p>Sirius paused and then asked,</p><p>"What's with the rush? Something you want to share?"</p><p>Harry would've laughed, except this wasn't anywhere near funny.</p><p>"Nothing to share. I want to mitigate the fall out, that's all."</p><p>Because there would be fall out. Oh yeah, there would be a hell lot of fall out,</p><p>"We're at war, fall out is a given."</p><p>Sirius sighed.</p><p>"I'm going to reach out to my man again, get him on it as soon as he can. In the meantime, want me to send Cho your way?"</p><p>Harry choked.</p><p>"Sirius, I don't need that. What the hell?"</p><p>Sirius chuckled and hung up before Harry could say anything else.</p><p>The phone behind him on his desk beeped,</p><p>"Mr. Potter, you have a visitor."</p><p>He frowned. He wasn't expecting any clients.</p><p>"Who is it?"</p><p>"Uh. He says it's Lord Voldemort…weird name…."</p><p>Harry's cell phone crashed to the floor, falling from his lap as he jumped to his feet. What the hell? Was there no way to get rid of that bastard? Damn. He opened his mouth, but his office door opened.</p><p>"Hello, Mr. Potter."</p><p>Harry breathed, reaching for the calm inside him. Deep, deep down. He had to dig to find what usually came so easily to him. He asked as he approached Voldemort,</p><p>"Are you stalking me?"</p><p>Voldemort was dressed in a pair of tight black jeans and a deep crimson button up shirt. He crossed his arms and leaned a shoulder against the locked door. His dark hair looked immaculate. But there was a certain wildness to him, an edgy restlessness that Harry immediately picked up on.</p><p>A self-satisfied smirk crossed Voldemort's face before he spoke,</p><p>"You didn't think I'd let you simply walk away, did you?"</p><p>He sounded out of breath, eyes wilder than normal.</p><p>"How did you know where I work?"</p><p>"I'm quite resourceful, Mr. Potter."</p><p>He winked.</p><p>"Something you'll soon learn about me, no doubt."</p><p>Harry didn't want to learn anything more. He didn't put that into words, though. He stood there and eyed Voldemort as his chest rose and fell.</p><p>"Have you been running or something?"</p><p>He shook his head.</p><p>"No. Took the stairs, is all."</p><p>Harry blinked,</p><p>"We're on the seventeenth floor."</p><p>Voldemort's teeth appeared briefly when he grinned.</p><p>"I know. I don't do elevators. Last time I rode in one, I got a bullet in the back."</p><p>Harry took a step back.</p><p>"People try to kill you on the regular?"</p><p>Voldemort shrugged.</p><p>"What can I say? I just seem to set people off."</p><p>Harry nodded slowly,</p><p>"Yeah. I can see that about you."</p><p>Voldemort went quiet, gaze deep and piercing as he stared at Harry who stared back, more than a little bewildered until he realized he was smiling. Honest to God. Smiling at Lord Voldemort.</p><p>He shut it down, immediately bursting that warm little bubble in the middle of his chest. Voldemort's eyes shifted too, regret mixing with the wild hunger there. Something tightened in Harry's chest and he reacted without thinking, backhanding Voldemort. He watched as his head snapped back, slamming into the door. He must've bitten his lip because blood immediately coloured his bottom one red.</p><p>It was natural to Harry to reach out and pinch the bleeding lip between thumb and forefinger, hard. Until Voldemort whimpered and his eyes snapped open. Need swam there, shimmering in those pretty brown eyes. Harry hooked his thumb nail in the little cut at the inside of Voldemort's lip, tearing it. Blood dripped down his chin and onto the front of his shirt and Voldemort took the pain, revelled in it with loud whimpers that spiked Harry's blood pressure,</p><p>"Tell me what you want."</p><p>Voldemort's eyes flashed, defiance even as he rocked his hips and blood dripped.</p><p>"I don't—"</p><p>"Repeat yourself?"</p><p>Harry finished for him. He leaned in closer as he shoved his fingers fully into Voldemort's mouth, blood and all.</p><p>"Now that's a shame, because if you want what I'm about to give you, Lord Voldemort, you better start begging."</p>
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<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He moved his fingers in and out of Voldemort's mouth, blood heating when the man began sucking on them. Loud, wet sucking. Harry's body liked it. So much. Too much. He yanked his hand away.</p><p>A bereft look passed over Voldemort's face and he moaned.</p><p>"Tell me."</p><p>Voldemort fisted his hands, muscles bulging as he held Harry's gaze,</p><p>"Hurt me."</p><p>The plea was desperate and wanton. Harry wanted to hear more like it.</p><p>"Please. Hurt me."</p><p>Voldemort swiped his tongue over the cut in his bottom lip, bliss in his eyes. Harry asked.</p><p>"What else? What else do you want?"</p><p>Voldemort spoke, clearly challenging</p><p>"You. I want you to love it, and I want you to show me that you love it."</p><p>It was insane, the picture the man made, eyes crazy wild, blood covering his teeth and gums and dripping down his chin to congeal on the front of his shirt. Insane was the thirst for pain in his eyes, the same need that held his body captive and no doubt fogged his brain. More insane was Harry's body's reaction to it. He felt compelled to give in, to give Voldemort what he craved so much, what he was so sure Harry could deliver. Without saying a word, Harry turned and walked back to his desk. Behind him, Voldemort made a sound of denial. Harry righted his chair and sat at his desk then buzzed his assistant,</p><p>"Yes, Mr. Potter?"</p><p>"Take the rest of the day off."</p><p>Braced against the door, Voldemort hadn't moved, and at Harry's words he appeared to stop breathing too.</p><p>"Mr. Potter, are— Are you sure?"</p><p>His assistant had the damned right to question his mind, didn't she? It wasn't even noon and not once in the three years she'd been working with him had he done what he was about to do,</p><p>"Yes, I'm very sure."</p><p>He looked up and met Voldemort's gaze, holding it as he said,</p><p>"You may go. Enjoy your day off."</p><p>"I— Yes, sir. Thank you, Mr. Potter."</p><p>Thank Lord Voldemort. Harry didn't know how to explain what it did to him, watching Voldemort watch him with that expression on his face. An expression that said he trusted Harry to give what he needed. He trusted Harry. That messed with him, so he cast it aside and cleared his throat,</p><p>"Take off your shirt and come to me."</p><p>Voldemort pulled off a satchel. Harry realized he hadn't noticed it before. Setting it down on the floor he began unbuttoning his shirt slowly, unveiling his tattooed torso by degrees. Harry licked his lips when Voldemort tossed the article of clothing to the side. He kept his gaze steady on Harry's face as he swaggered over to him in his black jeans and his well-polished shoes,</p><p>The sight of him made Harry's heart lurch in his chest and his body throbbed with need with every step that brought Voldemort closer.</p><p>He'd thought the tattoo on Voldemort's back was crazy, but his torso art was stunning. A coiled snake was tattooed across his chest, its tail dipping just below his naval. The colour and detail on it was beyond anything Harry had ever seen. He made out scars, some little, some not. Both arms had a snake tattooed that wound its way up Voldemort's shoulders and wrapped around his throat.</p><p>He was utter perfection.</p><p>If Harry wasn't mistaken. Things were changing. He felt it changing, his control disappearing like sand though his fingers. It panicked him, he'd relied on that control for so long. But it freed him too, in a way he didn't yet comprehend. He pointed to where he wanted Voldemort to stand,</p><p>"Up against the glass. Hug it."</p><p>Voldemort did, silently, pressing his body to the glass, arms stretched out on other side. An offering. Harry's mouth watered at the delectable sight. An offering he wanted to take, claim. Damn it. Voldemort spoke in a scratchy whisper,</p><p>"My satchel. First pocket."</p><p>Harry walked over and picked up the satchel. He unzipped it and reached inside, hand closing around thick leather. He pulled his prize out and held it up. His belt from the last time. Harry fisted it, head bowed. No going back. There'd be no going back. Voldemort's thready voice drifted to him from above.</p><p>"I slept with it last time. Placed it on my pillow."</p><p>Harry's body shuddered.</p><p>"Harry."</p><p>
  <em>Damn. How could his name sound so good?</em>
</p><p>Dangerous. It was so damned dangerous,</p><p>"Remember your safe word."</p><p>He jumped to his feet and let the belt fly, catching Voldemort on his upper right shoulder,</p><p>Voldemort hissed.</p><p>Harry hit him again and again until Voldemort wailed, until he cried and jerked with each blow. Until his skin grew red and redder still. Until his arm grew sore. Harry beat him and Voldemort took it, body bathed in sweat, shining, making the tattoos glow. He put everything he had, all his force into each strike of the belt.</p><p>Harry reveled in the sounds of the leather connecting with Voldemort's back. The pained, arousing cries Voldemort made, the sound of his fingers skidding across the glass as he fought to hold on, hold his position. Harry spoke sternly.</p><p>"No coming. If you come, I stop."</p><p>Voldemort sobbed.</p><p>"Please. Oh, please."</p><p>Harry didn't let up, even when he felt like exploding himself. The front of his pants was soaked with pre-cum. He'd never been this turned on. He didn't want to call an end to it, but he allowed himself another few blows, stopping only when Voldemort's knees gave out and he crumpled to the floor. The man curled in on himself, sobbing, body jerking, cheek flat on the floor. Harry dropped the belt onto his desk and sank back into his chair. He wasn't finished, not yet, not by a long shot. He issued the command in the coolest voice he could muster,</p><p>"Get up. Crawl to me."</p><p>He did. Voldemort crawled to him, face flushed and wet with tears, fresh blood dripping from the cut in his lip. Harry held his breath, letting it out when the man settled between his thighs and looked at him with such helpless want in his pain-filled eyes. Harry pinched Voldemort's wet cheeks between his fingers.</p><p>"I thought you were gorgeous before. Like this, you're beautiful. Too damn beautiful.</p><p>Voldemort's eyes widened, but Harry didn't let him speak. He picked up the belt and looped it around the man's neck, buckling it at his throat so the silver buckle rested right on his Adam's apple. Voldemort trembled against the desk, making the piece of furniture vibrate. He'd read Voldemort's file. The one he had submitted in the club that night. He knew what the other man wanted, and Harry would give it to him. Harry spoke harshly,</p><p>"You don't do this unless I'm there with you. Non-negotiable."</p><p>He pulled on the belt watching Voldemort's beautiful brown eyes get blown, watching his face turning red.</p><p>Slowly, Harry got to his feet, the end of the belt wrapped around his fist as he constricted it, cutting off the man's air. Voldemort gasped, fingers digging into Harry's thigh. He held Voldemort's gaze, even when his lashes fluttered, when his grip on Harry's thigh loosened. Then Harry relaxed his hold, allowing some leeway and giving Voldemort the opportunity to gulp air into his lungs again. The man gagged and gasped, crying when Harry pulled on the belt again.</p><p>The sight of him made Harry tremble too, as he controlled the very air Voldemort breathed. On his knees, Voldemort clawed at him while gazing up at Harry, untamed and beautiful in his submission.</p><p>Voldemort coughed and choked, body writhing as Harry brought him to the brink over and over, a steady tug on the belt to get it taut then the relaxation of his grasp to allow him the illusion of freedom, of breath. Finally, he tightened it with a grimace, watched Voldemort's face contort as he grabbed at the leather around his neck, yanking, gulping, tears sliding down his cheeks,</p><p>"Come. Come for me."</p><p>He eased up his grip, and Voldemort arched, crying out, body jerking, spasming. Harry dropped to his knees next to him, removing the belt with shaking hands. His balls ached, orgasm churned. The man cried, and Harry couldn't hold back, couldn't hold off. It was too much. The sight, smells and sounds of Voldemort. He tore at his pants, unzipping himself and fisting his cock. He didn't get the chance to pull free of his pants. He came, a hoarse curse falling from his lips. Harry's head bowed, sharp white light pinging behind his closed eyelids,</p><p>"Damn…Damn it…. Oh"</p><p>Harry's felt Voldemort touch him and his eyes flew open. He stared into those brown eyes as the other man caressed his cheek and rasped out,</p><p>"You're beautiful. Absolutely gorgeous."</p><p>It was nasty, it was messy, and it was the first time Harry had lost control in a whole lot of years. Harry murmured brokenly</p><p>"You don't know. You don't know anything."</p><p>Voldemort grinned, looking drunk, tears wetting his cheek. Harry stared at him, unblinking. Everything had changed. Every damn thing. What did he do now?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry cupped Voldemort's nape and brought him closer. He smelt like sex and smoke. He leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together, panting softly.</p><p>"Did you get everything you wanted, V?"</p><p>Voldemort lifted an eyebrow in a silent query.</p><p>"I'm not going to call you Voldemort. Don't expect that from me."</p><p>Voldemort's lips tightened,</p><p>"Really?"</p><p>Harry brushed his nose over Voldemort's.</p><p>"Yep. Answer the question."</p><p>Voldemort said after a short pause. His gaze dropped to Harry's mouth and stayed.</p><p>"Not quite everything."</p><p>Harry asked gently,</p><p>"What else do you want?"</p><p>Voldemort shifted until his lips were brushing Harry's cheek</p><p>"A lot. I want a lot of things, Mr. Potter, but right now I'd settle for you. A taste of you."</p><p>He phrased it as a question, but Harry was sure that just like everything Voldemort said, he meant it as a demand.</p><p>"If you wish to kiss me, V, all you have to do is beg. You do it so prettily."</p><p>Voldemort's nostrils flared.</p><p>"I don't beg, and don't call me that."</p><p>He lurched forward, mashing his lips against Harry's. They froze like that,</p><p>Harry heard Voldemort's breath rattling as the other man waited for Harry's next move. Harry moved his head back a bit, breaking their connection. Voldemort's Adam's apple bobbed. Harry smiled and brushed their lips together. Voldemort made a sound, low and husky in his throat. Harry knew exactly how he felt. Just the press of their lips jacked up his heartbeat. He finally murmured,</p><p>"Open for me, V,"</p><p>Voldemort did. Harry flicked his tongue over Voldemort's torn bottom lip then dipped inside, slowly, carefully. Voldemort's breath hitched. The palm he'd pressed to Harry's chest curled, his fingers scraping against his skin. Harry hummed and delved deeper, sinking into the moist heat of Voldemort's mouth. Voldemort clutched him, tongue meeting Harry's in a tentative brush. Voldemort tasted sweet, like caramel. And a tad bitter. Dark chocolate. Harry went in search of more. He palmed the back of Voldemort's head, held him firmly and tilted his head to the side. Voldemort came to him, his tongue lashing against Harry's in a more hurried touch, all inhibitions gone.</p><p>Harry smiled, teasing Voldemort's tongue with the tip of his own. The man shook and pressed closer. The feel of him was different. With each swipe pf his tongue, Voldemort moaned a little louder, pressed a little bit closer.</p><p>Harry kissed like a man who hadn't done it in a while. Kissing was an indulgence Harry hadn't fully allowed himself in years, at least not to this depth and extent. But kissing Voldemort was like tasting an old and damn expensive cognac. Meant to be savoured, to be sipped leisurely. Harry wasn't rushing it and every time Voldemort tried to pick up the pace, Harry tightened his hold on the other man's nape so that he would get the message and slow his roll.</p><p>Finally, Harry broke the kiss and stared at Voldemort. The man was practically glowing, cheekbones stark and coloured red, eyes heavy and slitted, lips wet and swollen.</p><p>"You taste good, V."</p><p>He dove back in before Voldemort could respond. Sucking on his tongue, a hard pull that made his body clench when the man whimpered. Voldemort matched him perfectly, twisting his tongue over Harry's, their teeth knocking every now and again.</p><p>Harry lost track of everything but Voldemort's taste, the feel of him between his legs, under his fingertips, the sound of him. He was surrounded by the man, his senses taken over by him. He'd fight it, but he wasn't meant to win this. From the instant Voldemort had accosted him in the bathroom at the club, Harry had realized that this was meant to happen. He was meant to give in, to be here on his knees, holding Voldemort's face between his hands, kissing him as if he'd be lost without the sweet taste of the other man filling his taste buds.</p><p>He broke away, gulping air, chest heaving. Voldemort did the same, that crooked self-satisfied smirk on his face as he licked his lips,</p><p>"V"</p><p>Something flickered in Voldemort's eyes then disappeared. He spoke,</p><p>"I have to go."</p><p>Harry nodded,</p><p>"Okay."</p><p>He made himself let go of Voldemort and got to his feet.</p><p>He held out a hand, pulling Voldemort to his feet when he took it,</p><p>"Come on."</p><p>Voldemort stared down at himself with a wrinkled brow,</p><p>"Damn. I need to clean up."</p><p>Harry pointed to his private bathroom.</p><p>"Through there. There's a small closet where I keep spare clothes. I think you'll find something that fits in there."</p><p>Suspicion darkened Voldemort's gaze, but he strode to the bathroom and went in, closing the door behind him. Harry held on to the edges of his desk with both hands and tried to breathe calmly, evenly. He needed to think. To call Sirius and call off the attack. He moved and the mess in his pants had him grimacing. Damn. He'd really lost control, hadn't he? He stared at down at his desk. What the hell was he supposed to do now?</p><p>He pulled out the pack of wet wipes he kept in his desk drawer and wiped his hands. His shirt had smears of blood on the front so he took it off. He'd been so sure he'd never be in a position like the one he faced right this second. Since his pants were black, he brushed a hand over his crotch to check that the moisture wasn't visible. All good on the front.</p><p>"Hey."</p><p>He turned at the sound of Voldemort's voice. He'd cleaned up good. All traces of blood and tears were gone. Couldn't quite hide his swollen, cut lip, though. Or the evidence of his belt around his neck. He wore one of Harry's shirts, a lilac colour, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing his tattooed forearms.</p><p>"Are you okay?"</p><p>Voldemort nodded.</p><p>"Yeah."</p><p>"Let me change my shirt and I'll walk out with you."</p><p>Voldemort frowned.</p><p>"That's not—"</p><p>"Non-negotiable."</p><p>Harry didn't even look at him as he hurried to his bathroom. He quickly unhooked a blue shirt from one of the hangers, slipped it on then walked over to the sink.</p><p>Harry froze in the process of buttoning his shirt. He stared at himself in the mirror. His eyes were...different. Lighter? They were sparkling and looked so full of life. He looked relaxed. More relaxed than he had felt in years. And felt inherently calm. He didn't even feel this way after a good morning of yoga and meditation.</p><p>He swallowed. What had Voldemort done to him?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry finished buttoning his shirt and splashed water over his face before quickly exiting the bathroom. Voldemort stood at the glass wall, peering down onto the streets. He said without looking at Harry,</p><p>"Nice view."</p><p>Harry stepped closer to him,</p><p>"I like it."</p><p>Voldemort turned and faced him.</p><p>"I can see why. Ready to escort me out, Mr. Potter?"</p><p>Harry nodded.</p><p>"Let's go."</p><p>He motioned for Voldemort to precede him out then he locked up and headed to the elevators. Voldemort stared apprehensively at the elevator and turned to move towards the stairs,</p><p>"I'm taking the stairs.</p><p>Harry grabbed his arm.</p><p>"You're taking the elevator, because I'm taking the elevator."</p><p>Voldemort's jaw hardened,</p><p>"I told you….."</p><p>Harry caught Voldemort's chin, held it steady as he gazed into his eyes,</p><p>"I know, someone tried to kill you in an elevator—and one day you'll explain that to me—but no one knows about you and me, so I promise there's no on there waiting to ambush you."</p><p>Voldemort's gaze flitted away. He was scared,</p><p>"Harry."</p><p>Harry linked their fingers,</p><p>"You and me, V. I've got you. You just trusted me with something way more dangerous, trust me with this. Please."</p><p>He couldn't say why he waited, hardly daring to breathe, as Voldemort stared over at the elevators. Voldemort finally nodded,</p><p>"Okay…Yes."</p><p>Harry released his breath with a smile,</p><p>"Come on then."</p><p>He led them to the elevators and pressed the down button. The doors dinged open and they stepped inside. Voldemort's fingers spasmed in Harry's hold.</p><p>"My car's in the parking garage."</p><p>"Okay."</p><p>Harry selected the button for the underground garage and shifted closer in order for Voldemort to lean on him.</p><p>"Breathe, V."</p><p>Voldemort huffed. Spots of colour appeared on his cheeks and he ducked his head.</p><p>"I am breathing."</p><p>Harry wanted to wrap an arm around him and pull him close but he restrained himself,</p><p>"Why did someone try to kill you?"</p><p>Voldemort took a deep breath and turned so they were facing each other,</p><p>"You know who I am, right?"</p><p>Harry narrowed his gaze and Voldemort shook his head,</p><p>"You're a lawyer, Harry. Tell me you didn't look me up the second I told you my name."</p><p>Harry had looked him, except he'd done it way before they'd met face to face.</p><p>"I looked you up."</p><p>Voldemort licked his torn bottom lip nervously,</p><p>"Then you know what I am, what I do. Most of it is correct. I do bad things, illegal things. Someone wants what I have. They're out to take it by any means necessary."</p><p>Harry's heart pounded so loud, he was pretty sure Voldemort could hear it,</p><p>"You sound almost accepting of that."</p><p>Voldemort shrugged</p><p>"It's the way things work in my world. It's always going be that way."</p><p>The urgency to call Sirius grew impossibly high with every passing moment,</p><p>"Isn't your life more important? Why don't you just give him what he wants, this guy who wants you dead?"</p><p>Voldemort barked a laugh.</p><p>"That's debatable, my life isn't worth anything. But no, he's not getting what I have."</p><p>Voldemort's voice was firm, clear and so full of conviction that it raised the hairs on Harry's nape. The elevator reached the underground parking garage and Voldemort blinked,</p><p>"Wow."</p><p>Then he smiled at Harry, crooked and tentative,</p><p>"You distracted me."</p><p>"I'm the only one allowed to hurt you, V."</p><p>So damn true, wasn't it? He needed to find out who else wanted Voldemort dead,</p><p>"Here."</p><p>Harry pulled a pen and business card from his wallet and scribbled his number on the back before handing it to Voldemort,</p><p>"This is my number. Call me anytime."</p><p>Voldemort took the card and turned it over to stare at the number,</p><p>"You're really going to do this with me, Mr. Potter?"</p><p>His eyes were filled with mirth as he stared at Harry. Harry touched him, his busted bottom lip, thumb pressing on the cut there before he dropped his hand,</p><p>"I've already done it, V."</p><p>Voldemort searched his gaze then nodded.</p><p>"Alright then."</p><p>He pointed to a black SUV parked on the far side of the lot.</p><p>"I'm over here." They walked over in silence, the sound of their footsteps echoing. When he reached his vehicle, Voldemort unlocked it with the key fob then opened the driver side door. He spoke,</p><p>"Usually I'm driven around wherever I want to go."</p><p>Harry couldn't help but ask,</p><p>"Why not today?"</p><p>Voldemort placed a hand on Harry's chest and leaned in, inhaling his scent before he lifted his head and peered up at him,</p><p>"Because I don't want anyone to know about you. I can't let anyone know about this. Us."</p><p>Harry frowned,</p><p>"I don't…."</p><p>Fear flashed in Voldemort's eyes and he shouted,</p><p>"Look out!"</p><p>He pushed Harry to the side, sending him crashing to the ground as the sound of a gun going off filled the air. Glass shattered mere inches away from Harry's face, spraying onto his exposed skin like water. Sharp, stinging water. Voldemort scrambled off him,</p><p>"Damn. Harry, stay down."</p><p>"What's…..."</p><p>Harry struggled upright as Voldemort ran toward the gun shots, shooting back. Where in the hell had his gun been? Harry never even saw it upstairs.</p><p>"V!"</p><p>Harry pulled his phone, trying to dial out, but he didn't have service.</p><p>"Damn."</p><p>He crouched, his back against the front tyre of Voldemort's SUV. He was exposed, without a weapon while someone shot at him. He'd okayed this, going after Voldemort, but now, being witness to it after what the two of them had just shared? That shook him. Shook him up badly inside. The gun shots eased up. Running footsteps approached him. Harry tensed and waited,</p><p>"Harry, are you okay?"</p><p>Harry jumped to his feet and grabbed Voldemort's shoulder,</p><p>"What the hell, V? Don't do that again."</p><p>Voldemort shook his head as he opened his SUV door and placed his gun on the passenger seat. He was breathing hard,</p><p>"I wasn't going to let you get hurt."</p><p>He rubbed his forehead,</p><p>"I have to go."</p><p>Harry hauled him into his arms, squeezing him tight as he kissed him, hard and punishing. Voldemort kissed him back just as hot, just as wet and wild then he pulled away. His eyes were sad, regretful, but alert,</p><p>"Harry."</p><p>Harry stepped back. The last thing he wanted to do.</p><p>"I know, you have to go."</p><p>Voldemort nodded,</p><p>"You should get out of here, too. Before they find the body."</p><p>He hopped up into his vehicle.</p><p>"Go. Please."</p><p>"Damn it, V"</p><p>Voldemort had killed a man for him. For him. Harry rubbed a hand over his head.</p><p>"Drive safe, V."</p><p>Voldemort drove off after one last look and Harry hurried to his own car. This was a mess. A complete and utter mess. He tried calling Sirius half a dozen times and finally sent his Godfather a text when he didn't answer,</p><p>
  <em>We need to talk. Call off the job</em>
  <em>.</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>At home, Harry took a shower, scrubbing himself hard in an attempt to get the events in the parking garage off his mind. Voldemort had saved him. Lord Voldemort, the man he'd put a hit on, who he'd just kissed and beaten because he'd asked for it and because Harry wanted it. That Voldemort. Whose eyes he couldn't get out of his head, whose taste still lingered on Harry's tongue. Voldemort had killed for him, because of him.</p><p>"Damn it"</p><p>He swiped at the things on his bathroom counter, sending them all crashing to the floor. His worlds were colliding and Harry couldn't stop it.</p><p>He ignored Debra's attempts to feed him dinner and locked himself in his office with a twenty-three year old bottle of Scotch. He drank himself numb, losing himself in the phantom sounds of Voldemort taking his pleasure with Harry's belt around his throat. Then that morphed into Voldemort pushing him away from the line of fire. Rushing toward the danger while making sure Harry wasn't anywhere near it.</p><p>What the hell had he done? What had he put in motion? His phone rang, jerking his head up and he snatched it up, hoping it was his Godfather,</p><p>"Yeah."</p><p>"Mr. Potter."</p><p>Harry's chest hurt as he blew out a breath.</p><p>"V, are you okay?"</p><p>"'Fine."</p><p>Voldemort paused. He sounded as if he were holding his breath or something.</p><p>"You?"</p><p>Harry sat upright, slamming down the bottle of Scotch,</p><p>"Forget about me. Where are you?"</p><p>Voldemort's slurred voice came from the other end,</p><p>"Me? On a roof top somewhere."</p><p>Harry frowned.</p><p>"Why? You sound drunk. Are you drunk?"</p><p>Voldemort chuckled.</p><p>"Why not? And yes, I'm drunk. High too, although I've had better grades of weed than the one I'm burning right now."</p><p>Harry sighed out in exasperation,</p><p>"Why are you drunk?"</p><p>Voldemort spoke in a matter of fact voice,</p><p>"Because of you."</p><p>Voldemort paused again and Harry figured he was probably taking a hit off his joint or drinking whatever he was drinking,</p><p>"I have to stay high to keep you off my mind."</p><p>Harry licked his lips, eyes closing briefly.</p><p>"Why, V? Tell me why."</p><p>Voldemort snarled,</p><p>"Because if you're on my mind, I can't focus. If you're on my mind, I'd be coming for you, chasing you down,"</p><p>Harry threw his head back and gazed up at the ceiling. He asked quietly,</p><p>"What if I wanted it? What if I wanted you to chase me down, to come find me?"</p><p>Voldemort laughed again,</p><p>"Ah, but where's the fun in that, Mr. Potter?"</p><p>Harry smiled.</p><p>"You called me, so am I to assume the self-medicating isn't working quite like you'd hoped?"</p><p>Voldemort practically growled,</p><p>"You almost got hurt today because of me. You have no idea how angry that makes me."</p><p>Harry said firmly.</p><p>"It's not your fault. It's not your problem. I don't want you to blame yourself. Promise me you won't."</p><p>Voldemort grunted,</p><p>"Good night, Mr. Potter."</p><p>"Good night, V."</p><p>But Voldemort had already hung up.</p><hr/><p>Voldemort hurt. His back. His throat. Everywhere. Every time he moved, his back twinged and he got hard. The good hurt. The sweet pain. He'd needed it, went hunting for it, and Harry had given it to him.</p><p>The gunshots that followed in the parking garage had stolen away his bliss. He'd never been so scared, never been so angry. Being shot at was no big deal. Par for the course when doing business like he did business. But Harry getting caught in the middle, now that, that was unacceptable. He'd sighted the lone gunman as he'd jumped into a white paneled van, trying to make his getaway. He wasn't a pro. You'd think the people who wanted him dead would at least chip in and pay for the best. The man had been determined though, his red face wet with sweat as he'd tried to run him down. One bullet through the windshield took care of him.</p><p>There'd been no mention of the shooting on the news. Not one word in the newspapers about a body being found in a van in a garage in midtown. Curiouser and curiouser.</p><p>Now, though, it was another kind of pain threatening to break him down. They'd burned his building to the ground, trapping three of his workers inside. One got out, but was in the hospital, critical from all the smoke inhalation. Two weren't quite that lucky, dying mere feet from safety. Voldemort had to inform their families and he'd done it with Morfin by his side. The weight of their grief, it staggered him. The censure on their faces, the blame in their eyes, it killed him.</p><p>Even though most of the old timers didn't like him, barely cared at all for his leadership, they all looked to him for answers. They all expected him to do something, to reciprocate. He would, no doubt he would, but in his own time and way. He wouldn't allow anyone, not the order or his people, to pressure him into acting before he'd put all the pieces of his plan into place.</p><p>The old heads had called him in for a meet, the second time he'd been there since he'd taken over. The first nearly escalated into an all-out brawl when one of those bastards called him a weak pup, wet behind the ears. A bullet in their heads would have been enough to show just how equipped he was to deal with them, but Morfin had stopped him before things got too far.</p><p>Voldemort hated those bastards. They refused to move beyond the ways of old, sticking to the same shitty grifts and patterns that had the police always on their backs. They didn't seem to get that the authorities were now aware of their old techniques. They didn't like that Voldemort wanted to get away from the usual way of doing things, bringing London into this damned century. They turned up their noses at his gun running operations, but that alone brought in more money than everything they did. Combined.</p><p>"It's been two days... What do you plan to do?"</p><p>Voldemort sat back in his chair and met the eyes of all the men around the table. All colleagues of his grandfather's, all from the old school. They'd fought his entry into the inner circle from the beginning. He was willing to bet his life that they were just waiting for him to mess up before killing him off and putting Morfin in his place. Morfin catered to them, he was the perfect lap dog. Not Voldemort. Never him. He spoke up so everyone could hear him,</p><p>"My plans are my own,"</p><p>The table erupted in a loud grumble of voices. He drowned them out. Over in the corner, standing by the door, hands clasped in front of him, Morfin scowled at him. Yeah, Voldemort was antagonizing the old fools. He didn't even care.</p><p>"We demand to know what will be done to secure justice for our fallen brethren."</p><p>Voldemort scoffed at the categorization,</p><p>"Your fallen brethren? Do you know their names? Do you know their families, how many children they have, if they do?"</p><p>He lifted an eyebrow and waited. Of course, no one spoke up.</p><p>"Don't talk to me about fallen brethren. They're my people. They worked for me, not you, and I'll deal with the order the way I see fit. Not the way you want me to. I'd worry about my own house, if I were you."</p><p>He got to his feet and marched out amid the spews of curses and threats on his manhood. None he hadn't heard before. Morfin asked as Goyle drove away from the old bar,</p><p>"Are you out of your mind? That's not how you win them over to your side."</p><p>Voldemort shrugged and pinched the bridge of his nose. He felt a tension headache coming on. The last thing he needed.</p><p>"I'm not interested in winning them over to my side, Uncle. That nest of vipers can stay right where they are."</p><p>Morfin huffed and shook his head. Goyle asked from the front.</p><p>"Where would you like to go, sir?"</p><p>Morfin spoke,</p><p>"Home."</p><p>Voldemort shook his head.</p><p>"Take me to the funeral."</p><p>One of the fallen men was being buried today. Voldemort needed to be there, to pay his respects. He'd be there tomorrow, when they buried the other man. There'd be more trips to the cemetery before everything was all said and done. And that thought twisted his stomach.</p>
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<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The two men hugging the corners of the dark and silent street did their best to blend in with the night by dressing in dark jeans and hoodies. They stuck to the shadows as they peddled their drugs, but Voldemort knew who they were and he'd long known where to find them. They stood side by side against the shuttered storefront, talking in low tones, shuffling from one foot to the other.</p><p>Voldemort motioned for Avery and Macnair to follow his lead. He hopped out of the SUV and strode across the street. Though he wore gloves, he didn't cover up his face although Avery and Macnair did. Voldemort needed to send a message.</p><p>The corner boys were engrossed in their riveting conversation so they didn't notice Voldemort and his men boxing them in until it was too late. When the taller of the two jerked his head up, Voldemort pulled out his gun and blasted one shot.</p><p>The tall one's head snapped back and then he crumpled to the floor. Macnair wrestled the other into a headlock, and Avery held the blade to his throat. He stilled, and Voldemort drew closer to him, in his face. He grinned,</p><p>"It's your lucky day."</p><p>The guy's eyes widened, looking extra wild in the streetlight.</p><p>"You're going to live. Please tell your boss that I accept his challenge."</p><p>He turned away then nodded over his shoulder at Avery who sliced a deep open gash on the man's face.</p><p>"Da—"</p><p>Macnair silenced his pained shout with a fist to the side of his head, and the guy collapsed in an unconscious heap on the ground. They were back in the SUV and driving on the road in under five minutes. The order had made their move. Now Voldemort had answered with one of his own. He wasn't waiting around for them to launch another attack. He'd make his next move and they'd know he wasn't to be messed with.</p><hr/><p>Harry looked over the papers on his desk, well aware of Sirius's eyes on him. He ignored his Godfather's searching gaze until he got to the end of the document then looked up.</p><p>"What?"</p><p>Sirius grinned,</p><p>"You finally got laid."</p><p>Harry turned his gaze back to the papers,</p><p>"What makes you think that?"</p><p>Sirius scowled.</p><p>"I know you better than anyone else and besides you're practically glowing."</p><p>Harry laughed,</p><p>"I know you do, Sirius."</p><p>"Did you—"</p><p>Sirius stared at him, agape.</p><p>"Did you just laugh?"</p><p>Sirius slumped back in his seat,</p><p>"Who is this man? Maybe I should meet him, see if he's a saint or something because hearing you laugh is nothing short of a miracle."</p><p>"I'm not sleeping with anyone"</p><p>At least not yet. But he wanted it, though. He wanted Voldemort. Desire flared up in his heart at that thought. Damn it. He should be figuring out a way to end this dangerous affair not thinking about deepening their involvement by sleeping together.</p><p>"Whatever. Just...keep doing what you're doing."</p><p>Sirius's gaze got serious.</p><p>"I thought for sure you'd spend out the rest of your days as if you were dead. It's good to see you so alive and happy."</p><p>Harry chuckled again,</p><p>"I've always been happy."</p><p>Sirius shook his head and cleared this throat.</p><p>"I know you won't admit it but let's talk about what we're going to do about Voldemort. He killed one of our men. I can't get a hold of my guy otherwise he'd be dead by now, I swear to you."</p><p>And then Sirius snorted.</p><p>"I just may do it myself."</p><p>Turned out the bullets that flew at Voldemort the other day in Harry's parking garage weren't because of him. Sirius had yet to get in contact with their guy who did their contracted wet work. A relief for Harry, but it begged the question, who else wanted Lord Voldemort dead? Whose body Harry had paid to dispose of? Harry sighed.</p><p>"I hear he lost two in that fire you set at his building. You're even then."</p><p>Now Harry knew why Voldemort had been hurting when he showed up at his office. Why he'd smelled faintly of smoke. He hadn't said anything. But, why would he? Harry was the cause of all of it. And now that everything was put in place, now that the ball had already started rolling, there was no way to stop the explosion that was coming. Sirius gritted his teeth,</p><p>"I don't get why he left the other alive though. He slashes his face, knocks him out, but keeps him alive. Why?"</p><p>Trying to understand the way Voldemort's mind worked was a losing battle.</p><p>"Why don't you and the guys cool it? You're about to head to Moscow. Let's focus on sewing up that deal. The cops are going to come sniffing around. I want you out of the way."</p><p>Sirius shook his head,</p><p>"Yeah, okay. But I don't think the answer is to cool down. We should be heating things up, making that bastard sweat. As pale as he is, he looks like he belongs in the cold. I think he won't be able to stand the heat."</p><p>Sirius laughed at his own joke. Harry never really felt any negatives emotions towards his Godfather until that moment. He wanted to say something to shut him up for talking about Voldemort that way. Harry rubbed his temple. What? What was happening here?</p><p>Sirius's phone rang and he answered.</p><p>"Hey"</p><p>His eyes bulged and he stared at Harry as he growled into the phone,</p><p>"Don't you dare lie to me!"</p><p>His expression turned thunderous.</p><p>"Bloody hell!"</p><p>He hung up the phone and tossed it onto Harry's desk.</p><p>"They got the shipment."</p><p>He jumped to his feet.</p><p>"Someone tipped off the police. They intercepted the container."</p><p>Harry leaned back in his seat,</p><p>"Damn it!"</p><p>That shipment of weed headed to Moscow was their way to lock up a gun distribution deal between the order and the Russians. That shipment was payment, guaranteeing The Order, the exclusive sale of the Russian's weapons. Marijuana in exchange for guns. The biggest damn coup. Down the drain. That deal was now worth nothing,</p><p>"It's him. I'm telling you, I don't know how, but it was him."</p><p>Of course, it was. Harry wanted to know how and where Voldemort learned that information. He wanted to know a whole lot of things. Harry finally asked</p><p>"Anything on that shipment, in the paperwork to trace back to us?"</p><p>Sirius started shaking his head before Harry finished his question.</p><p>"No, nothing. We're cool."</p><p>But he was angry, his face, his stance,</p><p>"I should go, make some calls before this thing hits the press."</p><p>And it would. A big haul like that, Harry would be surprised if it wasn't the lead story on the five o'clock news. He motioned to his office door and spoke firmly,</p><p>"Go on. Talk to who you have to, let them know we can fix it. Because we will. But don't make any moves until we speak again."</p><p>Sirius didn't speak so Harry stood.</p><p>"Sirius, you heard me? No moves until we speak again."</p><p>"Yeah. I heard you."</p><p>Sirius picked up his phone and as he turned to go, Harry pulled him into a tight hug and whispered in his ear,</p><p>"It's all going work itself out. No rash actions, no hasty decisions. Let's hold off on bringing in your friend for now."</p><p>He tapped a finger to Sirius's temple.</p><p>"We think things through. The reason we're still here while all those other bastards are long gone is because we think."</p><p>Sirius extricated himself from Harry's embrace and walked out of the office,</p><p>"I know, Harry."</p><p>We think. Harry sat at the edge of his desk. Was that what he'd been doing, getting involved with Lord Voldemort? Thinking. Where had his brains been from the instant he'd gazed into Voldemort's eyes? Harry snorted. He knew damn well where his brains had disappeared to.</p><p>He powered up his laptop and began doing searches for any word on the shipment the police had confiscated. He didn't find anything on it, but a headline froze his fingers.</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>BREAKING: Head of London's Drug Gang arrested. Questioned in a suspicious fire.</em>
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</p><p>Damn it. Harry clicked on the video link even though his brain screamed at him to look away. The video was of Voldemort being arrested, at a cemetery it looked like, about an hour or so ago. The accompanying article was short and didn't state anything Harry didn't already know about Voldemort. Of course, he did learn that Voldemort was arrested in connection to the death of his two workers who'd died in a fire. And he was being held downtown.</p><p>Harry picked up the phone and began dialing. He'd long stopped questioning why he acted before he thought when it came to Lord Voldemort,</p><p>"Hello?"</p><p>"Neville, It's Harry."</p><p>Neville Longbottom choked in his ear.</p><p>"Harry. Well. Well. How are you?"</p><p>Harry smiled.</p><p>"I'm good, but Neville, I'm afraid this isn't a social call."</p><p>He paused then said,</p><p>"I'm in need of a favor."</p>
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<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The detective shoved both hands in his pockets and scowled down at Voldemort,</p><p>"You're saying you didn't cause the fire and you have no idea who did?"</p><p>They'd snatched him as he'd stood off to the side of his man's burial. It enraged him because those bastards knew he didn't set the fire. That he'd had nothing to do with it.</p><p>"Correct."</p><p>The second detective placed his hands flat on the table and glared at him,</p><p>"The bodies of your two men weren't the only thing we found burnt to a crisp inside that building. You know that, right?"</p><p>He hadn't bothered to remember their names, and he'd never met these particular members of the MET before, but he was getting a definite hate vibe from them. He grinned,</p><p>"I know nothing. I own a candy store, detectives."</p><p>He met their disgusted gazes with a small smile.</p><p>"What is it you think I do?"</p><p>Detective one asked,</p><p>"Do you think we're stupid?"</p><p>Voldemort shrugged.</p><p>"Well..."</p><p>The interrogation room opened and a tall, chubby man with a round man walked in wearing an ill-fitting brown suit and carrying a black briefcase,</p><p>"Okay, gentlemen. I'd like a moment with my client."</p><p>He thumped the briefcase onto the desk, making it shake as the detectives protested, and Voldemort stared at him,</p><p>"He didn't ask for a lawyer."</p><p>The man pulled a card from his jacket pocket and flicked it onto the desk,</p><p>"Yet here I am. Neville Longbottom, any questions you have for my client go through me."</p><p>Voldemort squinted at the man as he sat in the chair opposite and began rifling in his briefcase,</p><p>"Who sent you?"</p><p>He'd chosen not to call his regular attorney because he knew what the cops wanted. He'd done this dance with them many times. They'd hold him for twenty-four hours then let him go. He gazed up at the clock on the wall. He'd only been in there six hours. Neville smiled at him, a warm smile that crinkled his light brown eyes at the corners. His eyes hinted at secrets.</p><p>"Don't worry about that."</p><p>Voldemort didn't know how he felt about it. Neville directed his question to the two detectives,</p><p>"Care to tell me why my client was brought in? Suspicion of setting a fire on a building he has no connection to?"</p><p>Neville glanced at the paper in his hand then to Voldemort,</p><p>"You set the fire?"</p><p>Voldemort smiled,</p><p>"No."</p><p>Neville asked the detectives,</p><p>"Any evidence saying otherwise?"</p><p>The detectives grimaced and then detective number two spoke,</p><p>"We found evidence of illegal activity in that building."</p><p>"Good. Go arrest the owners. My client has nothing to do with it and I demand you release him, otherwise, I'll be taking this to court, and we know how that's going to end."</p><p>The two detectives paled. Voldemort hid a smile and sat back in his chair. This Neville guy was okay. He waited until the detectives shuffled out the room and shut the door before demanding,</p><p>"Tell me who sent you."</p><p>Neville stared at him, gaze contemplative.</p><p>"Harry Potter."</p><p>Not too many things surprised Voldemort, but hearing Harry's name on the lawyer's lips did. And his reaction to hearing his toy's name surprised him even more. He didn't like it. Didn't like that Harry knew he was locked up, that he'd seen fit to interfere where Voldemort didn't want him to. They weren't that type. They weren't that close. They weren't... They weren't anything.</p><p>Harry was his toy. They played. Nothing more. He didn't want Harry anywhere near this side of him. Something hot boiled in his gut and a tiny voice whispered in the back of his mind that he should end it. This was coming too close to personal, which was the last thing he wanted. Now that Harry had almost gotten caught in the crossfire, it was time to move on.</p><p>
  <em>End it.</em>
</p><p>He kept his mouth shut and his head down as Neville went through the process of getting him released. Waiting with his hands fisted. He hadn't anticipated having to decide on ending things with Harry, but he should. Especially with everything that was happening with the order. He didn't want Harry in the middle to get hurt or worse. Not that Voldemort cared about him in those terms, but it was a complication he didn't need. The fewer complications the better. Neville re-entered the room with a smile on his face.</p><p>"Come on. Let's get out of here."</p><p>Voldemort got to his feet and walked with the lawyer out the building via a back entrance while everyone scowled at him. It was already night by the time they stepped outside. Voldemort pulled his hands from his pocket and started to dial Avery, but Neville tapped him on the shoulder, motioning to a dark sedan with tinted windows.</p><p>Voldemort stared. He knew that vehicle.</p><p>"Goddamn it."</p><p>He shrugged away from Neville's touch and marched over to the sedan, jerking open the passenger side door. He snapped when Harry looked at him,</p><p>"What the hell are you doing?"</p><p>Harry jerked his chin.</p><p>"Hello to you, too. Get in."</p><p>Voldemort waved a hand between them.</p><p>"This isn't happening. You shouldn't be here."</p><p>Harry spoke calmly,</p><p>"Get in the car, V."</p><p>Neville stood off to the side, a curious spectator to their drama. Voldemort got into the vehicle, leaving his door open.</p><p>"That guy, he shouldn't be here. You shouldn't have sent him."</p><p>Harry sighed and spoke in a matter of fact voice,</p><p>"You got arrested. You needed a lawyer."</p><p>Voldemort shouted,</p><p>"No, I have a lawyer. I know what I need, Harry. I didn't need him. I don't need you involved in a mess that doesn't concern you."</p><p>Harry just sat there, both hands cradling the steering wheel, face expressionless. It was like Voldemort's words weren't getting through.</p><p>"You don't belong here. You don't."</p><p>A muscle in Harry's jaw leapt. He stared through the windshield and nodded at the police station.</p><p>"What about you? Do you belong, in there?"</p><p>"You don't know me. Don't presume to know what I need, Harry."</p><p>Harry faced him then, eyes soft and watchful. Voldemort took a breath. This was going to hurt. Damn. He reached one hand down discreetly and gripped the edge of his seat.</p><p>"Do you think we're friends?"</p><p>Harry nodded.</p><p>"We're not friends, Harry. Not even a little. You're you and I'm me, and I think—"</p><p>He licked his lips.</p><p>"I think we leave it as is."</p><p>Harry cocked his head.</p><p>"What does that mean?"</p><p>Voldemort broke their stare, glancing away so Harry wouldn't see anything he shouldn't in his eyes.</p><p>"It means, you go your way and I'll go mine. You go back to what you were doing before I showed up and demanded entry into your life. I have to go."</p><p>He turned away and Harry gripped his shoulder, fingernails digging in.</p><p>"You're leaving me, V?"</p><p>Harry squeezed, and Voldemort's entire body burnt with lust at the painful contact. He forced himself to wrench way and get out of the car.</p><p>"Goodbye, Harry."</p>
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<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Everything was a blur for a while there. Steady lines of coke and the liquor Voldemort had poured down his throat would do that to a person. He woke up one day…..hell if he knew what time or day of the week it was. After three tries he lifted his head off the pillow, squinting at the blinding light. He was trapped on a strange bed, flanked by Bella and Rodolphus, in a room he didn't recognize.</p><p>His bed partners were naked, and he made out restraint marks on Bella's wrist. Deep red gouges on Rodolphus' shoulders. Damn. Voldemort shifted and Bella rolled off him with a murmur. At least he still wore his jeans. What the hell had he done last night? Usually, when he woke after his binges, he didn’t care to remember what he'd done under the influence of his vices.</p><p>Today...</p><p>He remembered Harry's eyes when Voldemort yelled at him before walking away. The middle of his chest hurt. A sharp twinge that made him look down, touch the spot. Why did it hurt? Why? And why was he here when he had so many things happening in his life? Voldemort inched to the edge of the bed. Bella’s eyes flicked open. Over on the other side, Rodolphus snored, wall-shaking rumbles that never failed to irritate him.</p><p>Bella parted her legs when he crawled over her, her heat reaching up to him, musky with the scent. She pressed into him in a silent invite. One he'd normally accept, but right now he just wanted to brush his teeth and take a shower to wash away the days he couldn’t remember.</p><p>He swung his leg over the side of the bed and sat on the edge. His head pounded and he winched, putting his face in his hands. Damn. He was a mess. Finally, he asked a sleepy Bella,</p><p>“Where are we?”</p><p>She pouted, eyes at half-mast, as she crawled toward him.</p><p>“My house.”</p><p>She reached out a hand to touch him but Voldemort jumped to his feet.</p><p>“Where is your home?”</p><p>He'd never been to Bella's house in all the years he'd been sleeping with her, all the time she’d been managing the candy store. He couldn’t even remember her last name,</p><p>“South 4th Street? Are you okay, master?”</p><p>Was he? Voldemort felt around in his pocket for his phone and quickly dialed Avery while ignoring her. He needed out of there. Avery answered instantly,</p><p>“Yes, sir.”</p><p>“Avery, do you know where Bella lives?”</p><p>Avery paused.</p><p>“Uh…yes, sir.”</p><p>Voldemort let out a deep breath.</p><p>“Good. Come get me. Bring coffee.”</p><p>“Yes……”</p><p>He hung up before Avery could finish the sentence and looked around for his shirt. If he could remember what he'd been wearing. He spotted his shoes easily enough and pulled those on as Bella watched him from the bed. She finally asked,</p><p>“Who is Harry?”</p><p>Voldemort spun around and speared her with a hard stare,</p><p>“What did you say?”</p><p>She paled but repeated the question. Softer this time,</p><p> “Who is Harry?”</p><p>Voldemort reached her side in two strides.</p><p>“Where did you hear that name?”</p><p>He grabbed her by the face, fingers pinching into her cheeks as he demanded,</p><p>“Tell me.”</p><p>Fear lit up her gaze, it colored her chest and throat red.</p><p>“Y-You kept whispering it. When you were high.”</p><p>Her lashes swept down, hiding her eyes briefly before she looked back at him.</p><p>“You looked sad.”</p><p>He was high, how the hell could he be high and sad at the same time? </p><p>“No one.”</p><p>He swallowed.</p><p>“He's no one. Forget whatever you heard.”</p><p>That wasn't a question and he made sure she understood, staring deep into her eyes until she backed down and glanced away.</p><p>“Yes, master.”</p><p>Satisfied, Voldemort released her and walked out of the room. He felt... Outside Bella’s bedroom, he stood, shoulder braced against the wall, and tried to figure out what he felt, the panic he'd experienced when Bella spoke Harry's name. The pain in his chest when he’d turned away from Harry that night. His inability to forget Harry’s touch and his face no matter how high or how wasted he got.</p><p>His new toy. That was what Harry was. He needed to refer to him like that, keep him at a distance. Well, he'd already made his escape. He just had to find somebody else. Someone who intrigued him as Har…his toy, did. He kicked Bella’s bedroom door open and poked his head in.</p><p>“Did we have sex?”</p><p>He nodded at the bed.</p><p>“The three of us?”</p><p>She shook her head. </p><p>“You just wanted to watch, master.”</p><p>Voldemort closed the door so she didn't witness his relieved sigh. Then he caught himself and had to wonder why it mattered. He didn’t know. The answer remained elusive, but it mattered that no one had touched him since Harry.</p><p>In the four days since he'd last seen Harry, Voldemort did his best to not think about him. He did. He busied himself with getting his streets in order. His people wanted him to launch a full-on assault on the order and while Voldemort thought about it, salivated even, he couldn’t go there. He'd lose lives and that didn't sit well, not with him, not when he knew everyone who worked for him by name, knew their families, their children. The old heads might be all set to wage war, he wasn't. He'd never be. That was the reason he'd made sure his hits, when he did hit, were orchestrated to do the most damage. Effective, but quiet.</p><p>Since he'd tipped off the police to the shipment of marijuana headed to Moscow, the streets had been quiet. There was talk of something big going down, and the media was of course hyping things up, but the streets were always talking. He didn’t put much credence in it. Still, he kept watch, kept his ears to the wind, and made sure his men stayed on their grind.</p><p>Morfin was always in his face, trying to get more involved in whatever he was doing. No dice. It wasn't even that he didn’t trust his uncle. He liked Morfin but he didn’t like his ways.</p><p>And his ways for exactly what had gotten him locked up. Being locked away like that, you’re supposed to change. Thing was, he didn't think Morfin changed for the better. Morfin was an act first think later sort of fool, and while Voldemort could be as impulsive as the next guy, he knew when to lock it down and act like the businessman he was. Because of what he did, he was a businessman. The cops and people who picketed outside his candy shop might not think so, but he was. He made money, he was in the business of making money. Any means necessary.</p><p>So, he kept Morfin at arm’s length when it came to the business side, ignoring the look of betrayal his brother kept shooting at him. Being in charge of the girls was as good a job as any. Morfin had no reason to complain or want for something he'd never have.</p><p>Voldemort shouldn’t either, but at night he'd lay in his big empty bed, windows open and the sea breeze floating over his body, he’d stare at his phone and hover his finger over Harry's number.</p><p>He sometimes found himself wanting to talk to Harry, about his life, his business. How hard, how difficult it was. It would surprise him, jolt him, that want, and instantly he'd shut it down. His toy. What Harry was. His title. Nothing more. But the want never fully went away, never got completely smothered. Harry would likely go back to one of those women, someone like Ginny, who needed but didn’t demand as Voldemort did. Who wanted him, but didn’t want anything beyond their pain. Unlike him.</p><p>He didn't even know what he truly wanted from Harry. Pain and pleasure, mutual relief? More? He didn't have an answer, still didn't have one when he got the call from the guy he'd paid off at the club.</p><p>Harry had finally put in an appearance at the club. Was he alone or with someone? Didn't matter because Voldemort was already out of bed, pulling on his shirt as he headed for the door.</p>
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